


Cover my scars (and bloom in it too):

by imtheoneishouldlove



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020), Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Aman is a nerd, Aman is oblivious, Bad Puns, Badass Goggle, Florist!Aman, Florists, Fluff, Freeform, Idiots in Love, Keshav is a raccoon, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protecc Kartik agenda, Tattoo artist!Kartik, Texting, The Author Regrets Nothing, kinda slowburn, the author had to do it to em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imtheoneishouldlove/pseuds/imtheoneishouldlove
Summary: There are a lot of things that Aman thought he'd never do.He never thought he'd be away from his cousins for more than a year.He thought he'd never step into his dad's old lab ever again.He also thought he'd never fall for the man with a lot of tattoos who comes in every week to buy roses.But he did it all anyways.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's florist Aman and tattoo artist Kartik for the soul. This /is/ a tried and tested trope but we as a population are lacking in clichéd desi gays representation. This is my first attempt in changing that.  
> Please take note that I, the author, am Tamil and hence the existence of little to none Hinglish dialogues. Also if you see any grammatical errors, lmk or let it go coz I may not show it but the quarantine really do be fucking with my English skills tho.

Aman stopped to stare at the store front.

“ _Manufactured_ ” was the first thing that came up to his mind. The entire street was probably lifted straight out of a Parisian dream and dropped into a busy locale in Delhi. Dotted with little shops and one solitary cafe, this entire locality stood out like a sore thumb in the rustic background. It didn’t fit in.

The second word that came to mind was “ _opportunities_ ”. The only reason he was coaxed into this was because Sunaina Tripathi used one of her senti punch lines and the extremely enticing phrase of “will look good on the resume”. 

Any ordinary internship would have been fine but Shankar was stubborn that a hands-on experience in practical biology was just what his son needed. And what better way to gain hands-on knowledge on plants than to work in Shankar Tripathi’s excuse of a former lab turned into a flower shop?.

Oblivious to his son’s stare, Shankar rattled instructions on how to keep the lilies bug-free to his nephew. Keshav had been taking care of the shop ever since Shanker retired from his research and he had been doing a pretty good job at it. But times were changing.

The neighbourhood was undergoing a massive change as a part of the municipalities plan to make the entire area “tourist-friendly”. Which now meant that every shop here was going to be seeing increased sales. As much as Aman was hesitant to take up this “internship”, Keshav wasn’t completely equipped to handle the shop on his own. So it was decided that Keshav would manage the store and back end affairs while Aman would work with the plants.

“Oi Aman, should we wait till Goggle comes back or can we pop the bottle now?” Keshav whispers through a smile as he waves goodbye to his uncle.

Aman shoots a glare at Keshav before returning to bidding farewell again. “He’s not even out of our sight yaar”.

Keshav lets that one slide as he leans against the countertop. He looks so peaceful, like a cat sitting in the sunlight. Aman takes this time to really observe every aspect of the shop. Every corner is occupied by plants from different species and taxonomic categories. The store front displays an assortment of hanging plants and succulents, terrariums and bouquets. The entire area to the right of the door was dedicated to flowering plants.. Bright inflorescences of every possible kind bloomed in pots of varying sizes. Anyone who walked into the shop for the first time, noticed the pleasant smell of flowers. It was a harmonious blend of the fragrances of all flowers mixing with each other, to the point, no one could discern which single flower it belonged to. Potted plants and gardening tools took up the remaining space of the shop.

By the time they were done discussing basic managing stuff about the shop, Goggle walked into the shop with her unmistakable swagger. Now that she was studying to become a lawyer, her words and power walk had become way more formidable. One thing that didn’t change were her bone-crushing hugs and her loud guffaws.

The presence of both of his cousins was one of the only redeeming factors about living in Delhi. The three of them were each other’s best friends and also probably Aman’s only friends growing up. They used to loiter the streets of Allahabad like their dads owned the damn city. The three of them got bullied on the regular when they were younger so they learnt to throw a mean punch. No one believed that these 3 were the towns equivalent of gangsters because, _“come on, a shy nerd, a hermit and that Tripathi girl with one eye? What could they possibly do?”_

Whatever they did was let off due to their general reputation for being the responsible kids. They were the first people he came out to and they took it upon themselves to protect Aman whatever be the cost be. 

The last time all three were living in the same city was 4 years ago when all of them were bright eyed, bushy tailed teenagers in their hometown. After that, they saw each other for a short time every 6 month during vacations. These past years were the longest time Aman was ever away from his cousins and it took a toll on his mental health significantly. His interactions with the elders became increasingly restricted and he felt himself holding his cards closer and closer with no one having his back at home.

_“_ **_Three-pati Gang ki jai!!_ ** _”._ The champagne bottle remained intact in Goggle’s hand. **_(“Glory to the Three-pati Gang!!”)_ **

_“Okay_ **_Daadi_ ** _, let me do it”_ . That earned Aman a nice smack on the head from her. ( **_Hag/Granny_ **)

This felt like home. The best parts of it.

~🎕~

Mornings were a lazy affair in Delhi. With no more compulsion to wake early for 2 coaching classes and school, he had a lot more peace and quiet to himself in the dawn. Regardless, Aman woke early to water, pot and weed the countless plants in the shop and in the terrace garden. This was a leftover habit from his school days when he would go up to the terrace to arrange his messy thoughts in the pretext of gardening. For him, gardening was something that connected him and his father, for better or for worse. After moving away for college, the first thing he did was buy an aloe plant as a keepsake from home. 

Every morning he had to collect that day’s shipment and account for the inventory. Then he had to set up the shop and man the counter until his cousin woke up. Keshav was more than willing to let Aman wake up early considering that he was the living stereotype of a tech geek who lived like a goddamn raccoon. Keshav helped him get the hang of prepping orders beforehand and taking stock a week ahead of officially joining for work. So everyday he woke up and watered the plants leisurely before the shipments arrived. 

It was the day the expensive pots they had ordered was going to arrive. Aman carried a huge carton outside with the conviction of a man going to war and _insisted_ that he could carry all the pots in one go.

It was a _horrible_ decision. The tall pots stacked upon each other, blocked his view and threatened to topple. The apron was no match for his sweaty fingers which were intent on dropping the carton. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose treacherously. One wrong move and.they wouldn’t have any pots for plants, which meant no sales, which meant no money, which meant….

“ _Hey man, do you need some help with that?_ ”, a voice blurted in front of him. Aman nearly dropped the pots because he didn’t even notice someone was in front of him. If he had gone at this rate, he would’ve definitely hit the person and ruined everything.

_“Bro, you okay?”_

_“Yeah, i think….”_

_“Can i carry some of these pots? You seem to be really struggling with all of that”_

_“The shop’s right here, I think I can manage. Thanks for asking though”_

The stranger took a few steps to the side to let Aman through. Exactly 15 seconds after he had refused help, his glasses fell down. Right near his feet. All of the gods were having a nice jolly laugh at his predicament in the clouds. He exerted himself and decided to put all those years of yoga classes to use today. Picking up these glasses would be the single greatest achievement of his life yet.

Before he could even bend down, the stranger dashed and picked up his glasses for him. In a deft move, they placed the glasses on his nose bridge and picked up a few pots from the carton. The load was a lot lesser now and he was able to see the stranger’s face through the gaps of the pots.

“ _Radiant_ ” was the first word that came up in his muddled brain. The stranger was practically glowing right in front of him. With the added effect of the rising sun acting as a halo, he was sure this person was an angel. They were wearing a nose ring which was glinting as the sun rays were reflected from it. Combined with the vivacious smile that was getting increasingly confused, Aman practically felt himself drilling holes in their head with his staring.

“ _Uh sorry i zoned out… you wanna go inside?_ ” Aman said gesturing towards the shop. He was increasingly aware of the stranger’s presence behind him. It was oddly reassuring. They set down the pots in front of the counter and wiped their brow on their wrist. The heavily tattooed arm was on full display in the early morning glory. Aman was positively going to go _feral_ over the course of the day.

_“Thanks dude. My cousin would have whooped my ass if I had dropped those pots .”_

_“That’s fine. It was arm day anyway. I don’t think I could’ve seen such pretty things this early in the morning”_. He was sure the comment was about the fancy pots but blood rushed to his ears with no hesitation. 

_“By the way, i don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here. Are you new?”_

_“Actually yeah. My cousin runs this shop and I’m interning here for now.”_ Aman replied, relieved that he didn’t get caught staring blatantly again. He couldn’t seem to help it.

_“Oh, we’ll be seeing each other very frequently then!”_. Nose ring dude exited with an unabashed smile and wink.

~🎕~

For the rest of the day, Aman was a weird mixture of nerves and limbs. He knocked down a soil bag and spilled the water can all over the tiles. The last time he was this disoriented and forgetful was when he was waiting his board results. When confronted by Keshav, he fumbled for his words and gesticulated wildly which somehow ended in a mini game of Antaakshari.

He decided that he had enough of it and went upstairs to sleep his nerves away during the lunch break. But his brain had other plans for him. It decided to play a special compilation video of all moments of Nose ring dude with dreamy music in the background for _6 times_ before giving into sleep. 

By the time he woke up, it was way past when the lunch break was supposed to end. Groggily, he made himself some tea and went down the stairs leading to the shop. He didn’t notice a special someone standing at the counter. 

“ _Aman, finally!_ **_Chalo_ ** _, wrap up Mr. Singh’s bouquet for me, na?”_ ( **_Come on)_ **

He didn’t realise he was in all his sleepy glory until he was squinting at the billing screen with his faulty eyes.

_“Hey, are your glasses okay? They’re not broken or anything right?”_ , ‘Mr. Singh’ asked curiously in a voice laced with concern. His voice was so entrancing for his sleep muddled brain. He rubbed at his eyes trying not to let out that his stomach was doing insane flips at the question.

_“Nah, i just woke up from a siesta and i’m just hazy from it”,_ he finished with the best customer service smile he could muster. “ _Here’s your roses, Mr. Singh_ ”

_“Oh my god, why are you and your cousin so intent on making me sound like a_ **_chacha_ ** _with a pot belly? Just call me Kartik”_ **_(uncle)_ **

Kartik. That’s a pretty name. It suited him. He savored the name in his mind, letting himself repeat the two syllables over and over until it was committed to his memory. Not that he was going to forget this man’s name for anytime soon. He stared into the man’s deep set eyes for a moment before remembering his job here.

_“Okay Mr. Kartik, here’s the bill.”_ Kartik chuckled at the way Aman ducked his head when he got caught off guard. 

After he paid the bill, Aman gathered the courage to say _“When you said we’ll be seeing each other frequently, I didn't think it would happen this soon.”_

This gained a full-fledged laugh from him. The sound of it was like pure, unfiltered sunshine to Aman’s ears. It was **_sun-sational._ **

_“ Well as it turns out, the tattoo parlour next door belongs to me. Small world isn’t it?”_ Kartik asks with a mischievous grin as he slowly exits the store with his back turned to the outside world.

“See ya later, Aman!”. And with that he went out of the shop, whistling some happy melody into the air leaving Aman to question all his choices in life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's ya girl, back at it again! So a quick recap: We were introduced to our local bio nerd, Aman and his two lovable cousins. Aman was "interning" at his dad's flower shop when he met a handsome, tattoed cryptid. Turns out said cryptid worked right next door.
> 
> I'll probably stick to one chapter per week with all the online classes going on. 
> 
> Aman is bold and italicized.  
> Kartik is underlined.
> 
> Also, happy pride month y'all!!

Aman was done with this. He couldn’t go on like this. He had spent the entirety of the weekend thinking about Kartik. He had even thought of paying the tattoo shop a visit before backing away. This was so unlike him.

For a man whose entire internal monologues were composed of thinking and thinking till it was considered overthinking, he was being so ridiculously keen on meeting the man again. Yes, he was very kind and so, so warm. His voice was what contestants on Indian Idol aspired to have. He couldn’t deny that his body was generating unusual amounts of dopamine. But this was going too overboard.

It was gnawing him inside and out that he couldn’t answer his cousins’ questions on why he was being aloof. He _could_ tell them but that was even more absurd. He had known this man for only a maximum of an hour and Aman wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight. He knew that he wasn’t going to fall for a man who had just helped him. He wasn’t _that_ low-maintenance. Whatever be the reasons for his awry misinterpretation, he was going to ignore it.

For God’s sake, Kartik was still a customer. He was going to meet thousands of them going forward. If he was going to get preoccupied with every handsome man with tattoos, maybe he shouldn’t even work in retail. But this internship was the only thing that kept him away from the ever-looming fear of living a sedentary life in Allahabad.

For that reason, Aman decided to _digest_ the butterflies in his stomach and _train_ his heart so that it never skipped a beat ever again.

It took him awhile but he was sure that he was over his it-wasnt-a-thing thing for Kartik. Not that he was ever… Nevermind. It was a certain kind of bittersweet contention. He still thought the man was really charming and kind and just immaculately handsome but that was because he still had eyes. Just not for him.  
~🎕~

Keshav was not one to complain that Aman was in a better mood. He still wasn’t sure why he was being so distant over the weekend. Rajini tip-toed over his sudden sulking and hazy looks but it was pretty obvious that the both of them noticed that something was up. They poked and prodded him to get an answer but left it up to him to open up at his own pace. Whatever it was, it seemed to have blown past. And that was good enough for the both of them.

The past 2 weeks was the most laid back he had ever been in months. Although Aman wasn’t in the shop 24/7, he could count on Aman to have his back when he worked at night. Sales at the shop had been pretty good with the first phase of the construction underway and his freelance job was starting to pick up now that he had more time on his hands. If they were going to ride this crest, they couldn’t afford miscommunication.

Truth be told, Keshav was just as anxious as Aman when he started out. Being on his own for the first time, in a big city was asking for a lot. But they had each other for now. They both missed home terribly, but the idea of what “home” represented to them was wildly different and largely, just an _idea_. For Aman, it was a safe space where he was himself without any expectations. For Rajini, it was a place where her identity and decisions were respected. As for him, it was a place where he could be loved and be recognised for what he was worth.

Aman had woken up earlier and made them both omelettes for breakfast. Not the eggless variety. They were always rebellious that way. Something was also amiss. Whenever Aman did anything rebellious, it wasn’t because he _was_. It was most probably because he messed up somewhere else and wanted to prove himself better.

“Aman, where’s the toast?”.  
Aman looked up from his plate and his something flashed in his eyes for a second there. With a barely believable indifferent look, he said “Why, did you want toast or something?”  
“No, it just seems out of place that you would make omelettes without toast considering how we had 2 loaves of bread in the kitchen….”  
“Try not to gasp but I wanted to try something new today” he said haughtily.  
 _Liar_. He was definitely covering something up.

The kitchen smelled...different. Not the good type. It was an odour which reeked of failure. His first instinct was to look into the garbage before realising that Shankar Tripathi never threw his leftovers in the trash. One peek at the compost bin told him what he needed to know.  
“This might be a controversial opinion but i think that went well..” Aman mumbled from behind Keshav.  
“You don’t know how to make _toast_?!”  
“Don’t undermine my lifestyle, man!”  
~🎕~

It was in that nebulous part of the day where the afternoon steeped into the evening when the door-bell rang to announce the arrival of yet another client. The evening sky ablaze in a deep orange, washed the man’s skin with a bright flush that even the flowers in the shop would envy.  
“Welcome to _Phoolproof_. How can I help you?”  
“Oh, hi Aman. I’ll just have the usual.”  
“Mr. Kartik, you do know that this isn’t a coffee shop right? You’ll have to tell me what you want to purchase.”  
“Arey, just prep the red rose bouquet you did last time. Have some _bhujia_ , Mr. Kartik.” Keshav replied and extended his snack box towards the man without taking his eyes off his laptop. ( _crispy snack_ )  
Kartik reached and took a tiny handful of bhujia and settled in a chair in front of the counter.  
. Aman busied himself with cutting the rose stems to pretend that he wasn’t sweating under the gaze of the man.  
“So, tell me Aman, what do you do that you get to intern in a flower shop? Sounds like there’s a story behind it.” Kartik asked as he popped some bhujia into his mouth.  
“It’s not that marvelous. I am researching genetic engineering and my dad thought ‘interning’ at his flower shop while writing my paper was the best way to gain practical experience.” Aman shaked his head awkwardly.  
“Wah, we’ve got a grade one nerd over here, Keshav!” He gestured towards Aman as Keshav opened his arms in a “I-know-right?” kind of fashion.

“Well I guess I could say I always knew you would be a _pakka ‘Sharmaji ki beta’_ type. And genetics? I guess the apple never falls far from the tree”. _(Mr.Perfection, the standard for every Indian parent.)_  
“You know my chacha, Mr. Kartik?”  
“Just call me Kartik. He’s the uncle who comes by every month right? I love that man. He has given me _kaali gobis_ ever since I told him I recognised him from the Internet.” _(black cauliflowers)_

Aman felt a rush of embarrassment as blood rose to his cheeks. His dad’s breakthrough had been shadowing him ever since he became an underground meme with his viral interview. This day was going to cement that darned gobi in his nightmares.

“Come on, don’t be so uneasy yaar. He seems pretty nice in my opinion. You must really respect him if you are willing to follow in his footsteps.” That _was_ true. But respect unfortunately cancelled out dependability in this situation.  
Kartik wiped his hands on his t-shirt. His forearm tattoos were on full display causing Aman to lose his mind.  
“So, what about you? What inspired you to open a tattoo shop?” Aman shifted the limelight onto Kartik as he wrapped a dainty bow on the bouquet.

“I was crazy about drawings and any type of visual media ever since I was _this_ little.” His hand was hovering suspiciously close to the floor. “And tattoos. GOD!” He swooned. As literally as he could. “I just loved the idea of expressing myself through literal art on my skin”.  
“Do you have a favorite tattoo?”  
“That’s like asking to choose between your kids!”, he swatted at Aman with an offended gasp. His hands moved with a mind of their own. His eyes shone when he talked.  
“They look absolutely stunning”. Aman replied honestly as he set the bouquet in front of the man. He looked straight into Kartik’s eyes for a moment until the taller ducked his head, blushing.

“What do your folks think of your skills though? Did you ever give them a little tattoo or something like that?” Aman asked jokingly. Bad move.  
His jaw clenched and his eyes lost that brightness. “Doesn’t matter what they think. I love what i do and that’s all that matters”.

He rose from the chair and dusted off his hands on his pants. He gave the bouquet a forlorn look as he paid Keshav for the flowers. Aman quietly picked up a yellow rose and placed it right next to the flowers.  
“For you”, he said as Kartik gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.  
~🎕~

Aman stood in front of Kartik’s tattoo shop with a couple of Kurkure packets in his hand. He fidgeted with his glasses, tapping his feet to an unknown rhythm. His mind was mulling over words and phrases to say when he saw him. He just hoped that his brain wouldn’t short-circuit and talk nonsense. Nervousness had the tendency to mess with his brain-to-mouth filter.

_“Ink-redible?” REALLY? THAT’S the name? No wonder he liked Papa that much. He’s just as lame. I bet he is so lame that he probably plays the harmonium or something like that._

He was so lost in his train of thought that he failed to notice Kartik who was hastily fixing his hair in the window. Aman was mentally weighing the pros and cons of going into the shop right now. Pros being that he would get to apologise to Kartik and could maybe strike up a conversation if everything went well. The cons were that he could fuck up his words, irritate Kartik even more, get another impulsive tattoo and/or start talking and digress until he forgot about the apology. It was obvious that the cons outweighed the pros. Plus he felt that he’d need the Kurkure to sad-binge on if things went to shit. So as any sane person would, he turned on his heels to leave.

“Aman, why are you standing there in the sun? Did you see a ghost or something? Come in, na?” Kartik beckoned him over from the doorstep of the shop. His hair looked hurriedly tousled and he was missing his nose-ring. His eyes zeroed in on the snacks and he tilted his head, looking puzzled.

“You buy Masala Munch _willingly_?” Kartik asked, conflicted.  
“It was all they had. At least it wasn’t the yellow Lays packet.” Aman quips as Kartik nods sagely.  
“I don’t think i could be friends with a monster who eats plain salted chips.” It was Aman’s turn to nod agreeingly.

Aman looked at his hands and suddenly became aware of why he was there. “Uhh… these are for you. I thought I shouldn't come by empty-handed to meet you”, he thrust the packets into the other’s hands with the grace of a drunkard walking home.  
Kartik was confused as to what was happening but his face was dripping with mirth. “Oh okay, thanks then.” Silence. “ Sooo…you wanna tell me what brings you here on such a sunny afternoon?” He motioned towards the waiting area of the shop.

The shop was brightly lit by the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows. Flowering plants hung from the fake ceiling and added a splash of color to the black and white walls. An entire wall was dedicated to pictures, trophies and books. Countless books with covers in all shades of the rainbow were arranged in a huge cupboard that could rival his dad’s collection back home. The waiting area led to a room covered by curtains, possibly where the tattooing took place. The copper lamps and the large couch in the corner of the room invoked a warm impression. The shop felt like an extension of Kartik’s personality.

“The shop’s so beautiful. Did you design it by yourself?” Aman looked around like a child in a candy shop.  
"My friend helped obviously. But I had a clear idea of what I wanted for a long time." He looked around the shop with a proud look in his eyes. "Sit down dude. What is that you wanted to talk about?"

Aman took a deep breath and started, "About last week… I just wanted to apologize about making you uncomfortable by bringing up your parents… I didn't know it was a touchy subject for you. I'm sorry if I was intruding."  
He looked at Kartik expectantly as if he was waiting for a cue that could let him off even if he ran away at that exact moment.

Kartik blinked. Realisation seemed to have hit him a little late. "Oh god _NO._ I should be the one apologizing here." His eyes were wide open and he put his head in his palms, flustered.  
"I wanted to come by sooner but I felt that you might think it was too cheap. I shouldn't have stormed off like that. Yes, I was in a pretty shitty mood and I don't really like to talk about them. But _you_ didn't know that. You shouldn't apologize for that. That was so stupid of me. I'm so sorry for that." He groaned in embarrassment

"It's….okay man." Aman said as he patted Kartik on the back awkwardly. "I apologized because I felt like it. I didn't expect this turn of events though."  
"You shouldn’t have to though." Kartik looked like he had just kicked a puppy while playing with it. The cogs were turning in Aman’s brain. This could make or break this entire conversation they had till now.

"What do you say I make it up to you?", he blurted out.  
"What? How? Why?"  
"I wanna make up for this entire situation by asking you to join me and Keshav for a drink tomorrow night. You can decline if you want, no problem."  
"You really don't have to do all this Aman. It wasn't even your fault. But I'll be lying if I said I couldn't use a few new friends and some drinks.  
That was quick. He didn’t plan this far into the conversation anyway.

"Okay I'll just tex-" Aman blanked out for a moment thinking about what he should do next. Kartik waved a hand in front of his face.  
"You stare a lot into space Aman. I'm concerned."  
"Kartik, I don't even have your number."  
"Shit. Here, give me your phone."  
Aman handed over his phone with a reverence he reserved only for his comfort blanket. Kartik took his phone and texted to his own number in the phone with a practised agility.  
“ _Kartik the tattoo dude_ ” The screen lit up in Aman’s face as Kartik held the chat out in front of him. Kartik’s face looked adorable. His eyes looked expectant. He wondered if Kartik was this friendly to everyone. He seemed like it. His energy felt like it was pulling you into this bubble of warmth. It made you feel like the only person in the room.

"You're probably the only Kartik I know"  
"What can I say, I _am_ pretty unique", he said with a tone of smug authority.  
Aman turned his face away with a shy smile plastered on his face. When he turned back, Kartik was looking at him in what Aman could only interpret as a fond look. Complete with an extremely lopsided smile that revealed his deep dimples.

Aman felt like he was crossing so many boundaries. Kartik was still just his neighbour. For all he knew, he could already have a lover. It was none of his business anyway. Maybe he had the habit of staring into everyone's eyes. Projecting his feelings onto someone who was easily just a friend certainly didn't feel good.

"Okay I'll text you the details. Just don't be late and blame us if the Masala Lays packets are empty". With a smile he got up and left for his shop.

**_Me:(3:15pm)_ **   
**_Hello Mr.Kartik Singh. This is me, Aman Tripathi, the cute florist next door._ **   
**_This is my number._ **   
**_Me:(3:30pm)_ **   
**_Come onnn, that was ONE time. U made me sound like an old man T__T_ **

Kartik the tattoo dude:(3:32pm)   
hahaaaaa lolzzz.   
i knew you didn't notice what i sent when you saw the contact name 😂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you eat yellow lays willingly, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Ik it contradicts the over protective Aman trope but I really think he'd be shit at cooking with his sheltered upbringing and such.   
> Also in that part where Aman is contemplating just how lame Kartik was, I wanted to add a small joke about the Oedipus complex (that thing when people are attracted to people who are like their parents) but as a psychology enthusiast I'm obliged to tell you, Sigmund Freud SUCKS.
> 
> If you don't know about the George Floyd case, please go educate yourself on it and sign some petitions. It takes less than 10 minutes and your support makes a difference.
> 
> In the meantime come shout at me on my [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/Jooniesknj) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/Jooniesknj)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Hope y'all are staying safe. The update is a bit late since I'm having some tests now. 
> 
> Tw// mentions and description of a mild panic attack in the start so proceed with caution.
> 
> Today I give you some Kartik POV at the start. Tomorrow, who knows?
> 
> Italics and bold is Aman  
> Underlined is Kartik

Kartik gasps for a breath of air. His legs seem to be stuck to the ground, unmoving. With every shift in his limbs, his position becomes more rooted in the dirty lanes. He pulls his shirt closer to himself, hands scrambling to salvage whatever warmth was left in his body. With every shallow breath, the air around him turns colder, pricking at his nose. The ringing of his phone echoes from somewhere hauntingly. His head turns and he looks around like a lost child searching for their parent in a crowd. 

In the end of the alley, he sees a blurry figure trudging towards him. Something turns in the pit of his belly. Bile rises to his mouth as his stomach lurches in fear. The biting cold that stings his freezed fingers is long forgotten. His neck feels hot and his throat starts closing up.

As a final attempt, he tries to move himself with all the energy he can muster. His legs start moving with an accordance of their own and take him far, far, far away. So far away that his eyes start questioning where he is. The buildings are overridden with weeds and the air is smothering. He looks around once again, but in fascination. 

The midnight becomes more welcoming now. He gathers himself and walks along the untrodden cobblestone path. It was a winded path which twisted upon itself with no visible beginning or end. His shaky legs carry him into the maze that the road in front of him provided.

When he looks forward, he sees a blue expanse staring at him, beckoning him. He's sure he's not at home anymore. He's not even sure this place is real. All he knows is that he now belonged to the ocean. 

The water thrashes upon the sands and subsides before doing it again. The ocean, she calls out to him with a welcome befitting a hero returning home. And he, like a fool, runs back into her embrace like a child rushing for their mother's lap.

The ocean is a wily traitor. She invites him with warm open arms and a sweet laugh. The kind that tastes sweet to the point it is sickly and hurts your teeth. She caresses his face and back and envelops him like a blanket. And drags him in.

He tastes salt. She reaches deep inside him and fills his lungs with brine. The more he squirmed from her grip, the deeper furrows she created. She wounds him from the inside, scraping on his inner linings and carving herself in his every cut.

Kartik soars

He is flying.

He is floating.

He rises.

And he falls.

He is sinking.

He is plunging.

He drowns.

Kartik rose from his couch, eyes bloodshot. He placed a hand over his chest and felt his heart threatening to leap out. He searched around the room for something, anything but nothing in particular. Just as he re-oriented himself, the walls began to close on him. He felt inexplicably crushed by the weight of his own apartment. Air seemed to be thinning out just around him and he needed something to hold on to. 

He stumbled along to the balcony and sat himself down on the beanbag. His fingers were still trembling as he stared listlessly into the night sky. With the exception of a couple of stars, everything else was washed out by Delhi’s ceaseless lights. Nights like these made him wonder how his life would’ve turned out if he had given a chance to all the ‘ifs’ and ‘ors’. But life tends to flow a certain way and he had a tendency to get picked up in its course. 

He wiped at his eyes tiredly, which were now somehow damp. Even though the initial shock of the nightmare had lessened, he felt hollow. A deep sense of emptiness that gnawed at your insides till it left you with nothing but a vacant sense of self. He took a deep breath and rested his head on his knees, curling in on himself. He sat there for minutes, hours and for what felt like an eternity. His fingers played with his hair, tangling the strands together till he gained some other distraction for his traitorous hands.

Midnights in Delhi were a cold affair and Kartik wasn’t equipped to handle it. He decided it was time to go inside when he saw the ghosts of his breaths in front of his eyes. Instead of his couch, he went straight to his bedroom where he could toast himself under the warmth of his blankets. It still hurt to be here. In his own apartment. He could still see the residues of _him_ everywhere in this place. It had been well over a year now and it hurted way less than it did before. But nights like these made him yearn for those arms that held him safe. He tried to replace him with so many other things but in the end, he realised it was like filling up a colander.

Kartik tossed and turned in his bed before picking up the phone from his bedside table. He opened his chat with Devika before deciding against it lest he scare her in the middle of the night. Instead he went on Youtube where he could let himself mindlessly consume content where he could pretend that the person was talking to him. He knew his therapist was going to be disappointed but he decided that day was going to be a cheat day of sorts. It had already been more than an hour. Before he could move to another “daily routine” video, his phone lit up with a notification that he had received a text from… Aman.

_“At this hour? Why’s he texting me now?”_

**_Aman: (2:17am)_ **

**_You up?_ **

Me: (2:18am)

yeah duh.

kya hua?

**_Aman: (2:20am)_ **

**_Nothing. I saw that u were online and I popped in to say hi._ **

**_Rough night?_ **

_Aww that’s nice of him!_

Me: (2:23am)

yeah man.

i was just watching the 1000th puppy video on the tl...nothing too fancy.

what were you doin? I thought old people slept at 10pm.

**_Aman: (2:25am)_ **

**_A man of culture, I see._ **

**_Ha ha nice one. I had to brush up on my course material and get some reading done._ **

Me: (2:26am)

F in the chat for you

F

**_Aman: (2:26am)_ **

**_F_ **

_“Shit…. How do i keep the conversation going now?”_

Me: (2:31am)

hey do you wanna hear a lame joke?

**_Aman: (2:32am)_ **

**_Uhh why not? Go on._ **

Me: (2:33am)

what do you call a _cheenti_ from America? _(ant)_

**_Aman: (2:34am)_ **

**_What do you call it_ **

**_God I just know this is going to be terrible._ **

Me: (2:35am)

*drumrolls*

A Manhatt-ant!!!!

**_Aman: (2:36am)_ **

**_UGGHHHHHHHH_ **

**_Kartik, yaar, you’re so lame._ **

Me: (2:37am)

well that IS the Kartik Singh brand

so what is your lame hobby? Stamp collection? Soap carving?

**_Aman: (2:40am)_ **

**_Which do you want, the pretentious one or the stupid one?_ **

Me: (2:41am)

i’ll take both

**_Aman: (2:43am)_ **

**_I solve crosswords and knit blankets._ **

**_You decide which is which._ **

_God, this dude is honestly so random at times_

Me: (2:45am)

I think i have an idea.

crossword is the stupid one and the quilting one is you just flexing on me.

**_Aman: (2:47am)_ **

**_Weird guess but go off i guess._ **

**_Hey now that you’re here, you wanna play some Ludo?_ **

He was already awake with no hope of sleeping anymore. One game couldn’t hurt him

Me: (2:49am)

that damn app is rigged I tell you!! 

I lose every time with my friends,

**_Aman: (2:52am)_ **

**_Tell you what, I’ll let you win for the first game._ **

Me: (2:53am)

you can’t just MAKE me win???

the rolls are automated.

they are....right?

**_Aman: (2:56am)_ **

**_They are._ **

**_But I stole some cheat codes from Keshav._ **

Me:(2:56am)

SEE????  
THE GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!! 

I’M GONNA CUT UP DEVIKA WHEN I SEE HER. 

~ 🎕 ~

“Look here, you’d have to be an extraordinary murderer to get rid of this baby. Even my cousin can take care of him”. Aman sighed as he placed the plant in front of the girl. She didn’t seem too pleased with his choice of plant and looked around for something else. Aman didn’t have anything against her but it was late. 

He picked up a pot with big, red flowers. He looked straight into her eyes. “How about this one? Hibiscus _rosa-sinensis?_ I’m pretty sure you’ll need it for your biology dissections and you can apply the leaves on your head for great hair or something”, he said as he mussed up his own hair. She thought deeply about it and touched the flower with uncertainty.

“Okay… I’ll take this one because it’s late today. But I want an exchange if it doesn’t bloom well.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Shivangi, this is a flower shop. There are no take backs. Besides, I watered her pretty well everyday so you won’t have a reason to return her if you do take care of her properly.” He finishes looking quite proud of himself.

She pulled a face as she paid Keshav for the humongous pot she was cradling a baby in her arms.

“Don’t keep her in the direct sun like your cactus!”

Shivangi flipped off Aman as she walked backwards, facing him the entire time she walked out of the store. She grappled to open the door behind her before she fell backwards ungracefully on a scared Kartik. She turned around to see a flustered man, holding the door open for her. In a rapid change of mood, she coyly tucked her hair behind her ears and looked up at him.

“Can i have your number?”

“Shivangi, you have a boyfriend!”

“Damn, let a girl dream will you?” She gave Kartik an embarrassed smile and rushed out of the shop. As soon as she was away from Kartik’s view, she made a slicing motion at her neck towards Aman from the shop window before face-palming rather awkwardly.

Kartik stepped inside the shop tentatively with what looked like a small bag and a bottle. When he was sure he wasn’t going to get hit again, he dangled the bag near his head temptingly. His body bobbed from side to side as he teetered on his ankles. He gave Keshav a fist bump as he placed his possessions on the table. With a lazy stroll, he went towards the part where they kept the saplings which were yet to be planted. 

Rajini walked downstairs when she saw Kartik peering at the tiny leaves intently. She waved her hands wildly from the stairwell to catch Aman’s attention. When he recognised her presence, he mouthed and signed an exaggerated “what”. She returned a questioning nod towards Kartik who had his back turned to the both of them. Aman tried to mouth “Kartik” discreetly but he whispered Kartik’s name in a way that was audible throughout the room.

Kartik turned around promptly only to see Aman cupping his hands over his mouth, talking to someone around the corner. Aman dropped his arms to his side as soon as he realised he had been caught. A girl, around Kartik’s age, appeared from behind the wall and walked towards him with a confident stride. Even to that moment, Aman was awestruck of her power walk and the way she carried herself. She stretched out her hand for him to shake.

“Hi. I’m Rajini, Keshav’s sister. You’re Kartik, right? Hope you don’t mind me joining in for a drink”. She smiled politely at Kartik who was looking at her inquisitively. Aman secretly prayed that Kartik wouldn’t say anything dumb or irritating to Rajini because that would result in an instant character assasination in his brain. 

“Cool glasses! The color’s really pretty.”

Rajini was still smiling but it was a bit more unabashed. She walked up to Aman and called Keshav over. The three of them stood huddled together, with their backs to Kartik. From Kartik’s view, they looked like the kids in movies who were plotting something. After two silent, awkward minutes for Kartik, Aman groaned and threw his hands into the air dramatically. He walked towards Kartik, with some keys and a defeated look on his face. 

“I lost the game.”, he sighed as he passed by the man. He picked up some plants from near the door and placed them on a table. With a pull of a string, he turned off some of the lights in front of the store and pulled the curtains down. He turned over the ‘open’ sign and closed the shop. Keshav walked up from behind with a skip in his step and thrust the broom into Aman’s hands with an evil grin. Aman stared him down. Keshav patted Aman on the back reassuringly. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

~🎕~

"So you're telling me, this is just one continuous hole?" Kartik twirled the straw in the glass and looked at it with questioning eyes. He leaned back on the couch and extended his arm around Rajini who had the chips in the other hand. It had been somewhere around the 25th minute after Kartik had arrived that they all realised Rajini was Kartik's long lost sister. They had hit it off like Keshav and Aman hadn't seen Rajini do in years. What started off as random banter led to them bonding over books and music.

"Oh don't get him started. One Shivratri, he argued with his dad about something physics related and we had to listen to that _all night long_ " Rajini groaned as she rose to give Keshav company on the "dance floor" they had created in the space between the Tv and the sofa. It was pretty cramped but at least no one was there to look at them in disdain for all their amateur moves.

The shop doubled up as Keshav and Aman's home with the living area on top of the shop. A few years back, the entire building was Shankar’s lab where he stayed for weeks on end with his colleagues before his breakout invention. After the colleagues had suggested retirement, Shankar had turned the main front into a shop rather reluctantly. Aman had bittersweet memories attached to the lab where his younger, father-idolising self had spent all his vacations in pretext of helping his father. And now it was the place where a drunk Keshav was dancing like it was his last day on earth while Rajini was chiding him on for more bullying material.

Under the rotating lights of the cheap disco ball, Kartik broke out in peals of laughter when Aman was pulled by Rajini to dance. Aman liked to act like he was the worst dancer to grace this earth, like both his feet were tied in the same direction. But every time the beat changed, Aman shimmied his body like he was the final dancer in a dance battle, only to repeat the same 8 steps with absolute confidence. The fact that his bragging was worse than his skills was enough to send Kartik into a hysterical fit. 

Once he sat down, Kartik rose to take his place. Aman gaped at Kartik who looked like he was the reincarnation of Michael Jackson in comparison to him. He moved with a certain ease, legs completely in sync with the music. In the middle of a hip hop song, Kartik extended his hand towards Aman, who looked equally confused as Kartik himself was. Aman took up the hand, stumbling to his feet. All four of them, thoroughly drunk, launched themselves at the dance floor when the song progressed to a faster beat. In a mess of elbows bumping into each other and toes stepping on each other, they danced and tried to copy each other’s dancing.

Aman’s hands itched to touch Kartik’s hair. A lock of stray hair, misplaced from his perfect updo, taunted him. It would be _that_ easy to just reach up and move his hair so that it didn’t fall into his eyes. The thought of such a tender gesture was so tempting yet so dangerously distant. Aman looked up at Kartik with wide eyes. If he were any more poetically inclined, he would have written sonnets for the way Kartik’s hair fell softly onto his face and how his nose ring twinkled with the flashing lights of the room. 

Kartik turned his gaze towards a gaping Aman. For a moment he could’ve sworn that he had seen Kartik winking at him. With a little shake of his head, he decided to keep that thought tucked away in the corners of his brain. 

Needless to say, all of them tired themselves out in an hour tops. Kartik slumped onto the sofa unceremoniously, bringing up his hands to massage his shins. Utterly wasted and exhausted, his face was flushed beyond recognition. He turned to Aman who was cracking his joints.

“Hey Aman…” One could hear the smile in his voice even without looking. Aman hummed as a simple response while rolling his shoulders. 

“What did the yellow rose mean?” Aman gawked, not understanding the question. He tilted his head in confusion.

“The other day? You gave me a yellow rose along with my usual bouquet. Do yellow roses have any significant meanings or something?”. Kartik leaned in, eyes expectant.

“Uhhhh….I don't know man. I just thought that the yellow contrasted the red pretty well. I’m not too familiar with flower language.” Aman shrugged. He could name each and every plant in the shop, both scientific and common. But he was never one for hidden meanings and abstract interpretations.

Kartik’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline before relaxing. He went limp in his seat on the couch. He turned towards where the cousins were lounging. “Thanks for umm...calling me here tonight. I was having a pretty crappy day but you guys managed to take my mind off from it.” He looked straight into Aman’s eyes with an unfiltered look. “I really enjoyed spending time with you guys.”

~🎕~

“Kartik, there’s no way I’m letting you go home like this. You’re all over the place.” Aman looked at a Kartik who was stumbling over his feet. He was wasted beyond repair and the street looked eerily deserted in the dark.

“You’re no better, Aman. At least I can walk.” He took 4 steps to prove his point before holding onto Aman’s arms for grip. “You think I didn’t notice you tripping over the stairs?” He pulled out his phone and cursed his screen lock, trying to unlock his phone. He smashed his fingers on the keyboard before tucking the phone in with a smug look. “Chill, i just live, like, 10 minutes from here. Besides, I’ve called my friend who’s on her way to pick me up.” 

Aman’s ears pricked at the pronouns Kartik used for his friend. 

_This is India, damn it. Is he mad or something?_

“Kartik, you called a girl over _now_? At this time? Tell me you’re not being serious…”

Kartik swayed from side to side waving his hands. “If any idiot messes with Devika, he’s in for a ride. She has kicked _so_ many asses than me.” He held onto a pole and swung around it with a dopey smile plastered on his face. 

Aman pulled Kartik to a standstill, beside him. In the cold, Aman's hands were unusually warm from being in his pocket till now. Despite being the shorter of the two, Aman looked like he was in charge of the other. Aman kept his eyes to the dim road in front of him and looked straight ahead. Call it fear or endearment,but he dared not look beside him for he wasn’t ready to face Kartik’s gaze head-on. 

Kartik’s eyes zeroed in on their hands, which were still entangled. His hands were soft and warm against the cold breeze that blew past them. Aman faced forward, eyes taking in what they could in the darkness while Kartik was taking another scenery in. Aman wore a hoop earring in his left ear. ( _You’re not so perfect now, are you?)_ His glasses glinted, catching the light from behind them. Both of them were drunk and it wouldn’t matter any more than before if Kartik just slid the glasses back up the slope of his nose. But he’d rather freeze out there than let go of Aman’s hands. He gave a tiny smile to their hands, still fused together. Silences were always ominous devils, cackling about the secrets of the future amongst themselves. But not in that moment. On the frosty sidewalk, Kartik took in the cold air and revelled in the simple quiet with a grin on his face.

Devika was a charming young woman, the same age as Kartik. Kartik had been shifting his weight from one leg to another, kicking stones that lay in front of him. When she came racing on her bike, Kartik flashed her a fiery smile that lashed upon Aman like the sun that blazed on a May afternoon. In an instant, his ears and cheeks grew warm with the blood that rushed to his face. For once, the poor lighting did wonders to his face and hid the colour until it was barely visible from a distance. 

Devika glanced at Aman while she was parking her bike. His eyes betrayed the fact that he was tipsy but he stood straight, smiling politely at her. Behind his back, Kartik was gesturing wildly at their interlocked fingers, the grin still intact. 

“Babyu, did you miss me?” Kartik crooned as he extended his hands to put his arms around her. She swatted at his hands, turning towards Aman.

“Hi! I’m Devika, I’m in control of this idiot over here. You’re Aman, right?” Aman nodded. “Thanks for taking care of him even when he is drunk. I hope he didn’t trouble you too much” Devika queried as she led Kartik to the bike with such concentration like he was something that might break with one unruly touch. Aman shaked his head with such force that it made his head hurt. 

Devika revved the bike and told Kartik to hold on to her firmly. She nodded towards Aman as an acknowledgement and started the engine. Kartik gave him a salute from the backseat before settling his head on her shoulder. Aman watched them drive away until there was no trace that they were even here. His hands shivered in the cold breeze now that there was nothing to cover them with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendations for the chapter:  
> There you are by Zayn for Kartik's POV  
> La vie en rose by Edith Piaf for the scene where they're standing outside.
> 
> I sneaked in Shivangi from Kota factory because I just think she's neat. Leave a comment, IDC if it's about the weather. I'd love to interact with you. 
> 
> Speaking of interaction, shout at me on my [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/Jooniesknj) because I'm more active there than in insta. Have a good day/night

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my brain's love child. I'll try to update the next chapter in a couple of days. Leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it. Do it, even if you didn't like it since this is my first ever fic. In the meanwhile, come scream at me in my [twt](https://twitter.com/Jooniesknj) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/Jooniesknj)


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